All posts by jkkblog

I'm a freelance editor and writer with a background in history and foreign languages.

Anyone else remember the Educator Classic Library?

December 13, 2011 jkkblog 2 Comments

This series of books may well have been the most ridiculously great bargain my mother ever spent money on, when one measures the amount spent vs. the educational gain. Anyone remember them? They came out in the late 1960s, large hardback adventure classics familiar to most people: Treasure Island, The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, Alice in Wonderland, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and more. They looked like this:

What made these versions great, above and beyond the basic greatness of the literature:

Nearly all were unabridged–but no fear on frustrating references, as margin entries defined anachronistic or complex words for the young reader.
The cover and interior art was something to behold, painting just enough imagery to help the young mind do the rest.
The afterword was always interesting and revealing, both about the author and about the story’s times.
With relatively large print, children had an easy time with them.

One may imagine the pause it gave me, many years later, when my writing and editing work called for me to abridge some of these very classics for young readers. Full circle indeed. Take a literary scalpel to Robert Louis Stevenson? In the cause of enticing young people to the joy of reading, yes.

I read my Educator Classics so many times I had whole passages memorized before I went off to kindergarten. This is more a tribute to the books’ greatness than to any youthful eideticism on my part. Later in life, I realized our family never owned them all. Of course, I still have all the originals we did own–those aren’t going anywhere until they scatter my ashes. Now, thanks to the ease and versatility of modern used book hunting, I am seeking these out one by one so as to complete the collection.

If you are doing the same, a lady named Valerie has compiled a full list of the series, including some knowledgeable notes. She’s right; they would be ideal homeschooling tools. I think they’re one of the best possible ways to introduce kids to the adventure novel.

Adventures

The day Jeff lost the wrestling match

December 8, 2011 jkkblog Leave a comment

We have freezing fog here today. Watching the hoarfrost build up on the trees in our yard this morning made me think of a funny story.

During my 5th year at UW, I was taking nothing but foreign languages, and leading the genteel, peaceful, burnout life of a gentleman drunkard in Hansee, one of UW’s quiet dorms. The rule in Hansee was very simple: do as you like, so long as you are quiet. Make noise, and the math wonks will have you thrown out of there in days.

Seattle doesn’t get a lot of snow, but when it does, the city screeches to a panicked halt. Three inches brings chaos, six brings paralysis. We had 8″ of dry powder snow that November of 1985, with swirling winds blowing it off the trees (to our great enjoyment when some jackass pulled a false alarm and we had to turn out at 2 AM in the snow). On the first evening, I was out with my crew messing around in it, attempting to have a snowball fight with the powdery snow.

My crew were serious game nerds. We had Wade, a Japanese American from Spokane, plus his frat rat high school buddy Greg and the very large Chad, who looked a lot like the Abominable Snowman in Bugs Bunny. We also had Ian, from Issaquah, the Hobbit (though he’s not really that short), and Jeff (also from Issaquah). Jeff was interesting. Bigger than me, but awkward, a good guy. I was the only one who was even slightly athletic, so I was faring well in the snowball pitching and rassling. We were out near a hedged area, and the idea was to try and rassle someone into the hedge. Much snow would ensue, to great hilarity.

Then came the funny part. I grappled with Jeff, hoping to chuck him bodily into the hedge, but unfortunately failed due to poor leverage. However, he hove me into a very dense area of hedge, and I rebounded as if I’d hit a huge spring. I got him in another grapple, and we strove with might and main for a few seconds, then he lost his balance. I pushed off and sent him backward into the hedge, but I picked a better spot by happenstance.

Jeff backpedaled into the hedge attempting to regain his balance, but into a less dense part, actually a somewhat bare spot where a forked hedge bush was growing. The fork was a flattened Y about six inches off the ground–the perfect place to catch both heels at once as you backpedal, if, say, some dude has just shoved you toward it backwards. That’s exactly what happened to Jeff. As he fell backward headlong, of course, in panic he grabbed for the hedge branches. Not his ideal move.

I watched in delighted astonishment as the equivalent of a snow artillery shell detonated where Jeff had been. For a couple of seconds I couldn’t even see him through the floating powdery snow, then it dissipated. He’d fallen with his mouth wide open, saying something, so he got a mouthful of it. Probably inhaled some. His thick glasses kept some of it out of his eyes, but he was fully covered in the white dusty snow, spluttering it out of his mouth and flailing to begin digging out.

When I was sure he wasn’t actually hurt, that’s when I started laughing. I doubled over. It’s a good thing it took Jeff so long to get out of it, because he could have pushed me over with Newt Gingrich’s heart.

Adventures

Standing on a drum

December 6, 2011 jkkblog 2 Comments

That’s the best description I can give of the experience of watching Korpiklaani.

I went with a good friend and fellow Nordic metal enthusiast, Debbie (not Deb my wife; she’s in DC setting Uncle Sugar straight). Our first surprise: just because the gates opened at 6 PM didn’t mean Korp was on at that time. Nope, had to wait out a couple of crappy local metal bands, though we had some good conversations with other people waiting around. We weren’t the oldest people present, but we were in the 95% percentile. First observation: if you are not a youth, yet you like this sort of sound, you should not feel shy because you are a) old enough to be the kids’ parent; b) lack a bunch of metal embedded in your face; c) unwilling to go full freak. We really enjoyed the people we chatted with, and no one hinted that we were interlopers. It’s a case where you get what you expect, I think, as in so many life situations.

This venue did take security seriously. Debbie didn’t get patted down, but I did. That said, though, they were polite. They did sniff her smokes for pot. Some other people got searched rather more thoroughly than we did.

Evidently one of the warmup acts got booed off while Debbie was on a smoke break, so we had to hustle into the music area as Korp started early. They all have serious hair, well down to the armpits. Jonne, the main vocalist, was good at working the crowd as was the guitarist next to him. I had brought earplugs in case, but while it was loud, it wasn’t painfully so. I was there for partly anthropological reasons anyway (and partly just to have a good time with a friend from college). Impressions:

Watching them live you trade some of the actual music nuances of CD for the visual spectacle. I couldn’t recognize most of the songs they played. The bagpiper was my favorite instrumentalist; the big dark-haired dude on guitar was really into the crowd.
The place vibrated, literally. It felt exactly like standing on a drum while some giant is playing it. I’d give it a 4.8 on the Richter scale. I was surprised the whole place didn’t come crashing down. Those floors must be made of 6″ thick maple timbers.
I’m not sure all metal bands with long hair do the hair swirl, but quite frequently the band would play guitar while leaning over and sort of swirling their heads to make the hair whirl in kind of a figure 8 pattern. Kind of a neat trick, when you consider they were still playing their instruments while doing it.
Lots of people did a hook-em-horns Texas football gesture, evidently a symbol of metal fan solidarity and approval. I didn’t do it, but you can get caught up in situations like this. I confess I was tempted.
During the first number, what looked like rugby broke out in front of the stage. I learned that this is called moshing. It got pretty rowdy, and at a couple points I decided I’d better kind of stand in front of Debbie in case it got out of hand. We stood back far enough that we didn’t end up playing rugby, though ironically enough, she used to play rugby for real.

It wasn’t a very long show, a little more than an hour. From an entertainment standpoint, it didn’t come close to Weird Al Yankovic, but I’m glad I did it, even though it required a hell of a lot of driving.

Edit: okay, this is how dumb I am. Come to find out later that what we saw wasn’t actually Korpiklaani, but Arkona, a Russian band. How pissed the real Korp would be to find out we mistook Russians for Finns! Instant death. I guess that explains why I didn’t recognize hardly any of the music. I was mightily tempted to just delete this whole post, but when you mess up, you have to own up. I was wondering about the discrepancies and timing issues, but I assumed that such haphazardness was just the way shows worked. So a total of ten hours with me driving, and three with Debbie driving, and we didn’t actually see the band we came to see. Ouch!

Editing/writing life

LSSU Banned Words List is out!

December 3, 2011 jkkblog Leave a comment

At least, I think the 2011 list is this year’s. If it’s not, they’re Doing It Wrong:

Lake Superior State University’s 2011 Banned Words List

I agree on ‘viral,’ although I think that the unintended connotation of a loathsome pestilence makes the word inherently self-honest.

Sorry, but we need ‘fail.’ It is such an economical way to describe that which faileth. I’ll yield on ‘epic’, though, as we really don’t need another watered-down superlative.

‘BFF’ must indeed go. Sometimes when I see it, I invent shocking substitute meanings for the letters. Feel free to drop yours into the comments!

There is nothing wrong with saying ‘woman up.’ Therefore, there is nothing wrong with saying ‘man up.’ I suppose if someone’s transgender, you would have a dilemma. Rather than blow a fuse, you could just tell that person ‘be strong’.

‘I’m just sayin” indeed has to be staked before it can rise from the grave and propagate progeny that will also feed on the living.

Interested in your own takes on the list.

Homeownership

A confused neighbor

December 2, 2011 jkkblog Leave a comment

One of our neighbors (the only one I can’t stand) puts up a comically garish, theme-free, obnoxious Christmas light display. I’ll call him Cletus. Evidently, it is very important for Cletus to let us know the true spiritual meaning of this jolly holiday. In addition to the reindeer and Santa on the roof, and the odd mixture of colored lights strung about the place, Cletus puts up a 12′ high cross edged with lights.

Cletus seems to have forgotten the birth part and moved straight to the torture and execution part. Good lord, Cletus, can’t you stand the idea of letting the kid live a while before he gets nailed up and tortured to death? What part of this is unclear?

I have no problem with lights, displays of faith, or people having holiday fun. I do think it’s pretty funny when someone doesn’t think it through. Cletus, You’re Doing It Wrong.

Human relations

My grandfather’s comedy

November 29, 2011 jkkblog Leave a comment

My grandfather (maternal; I never knew my father’s father) has been passed away some years now. He was no more a perfect man than I am, but he was a wise man, and at times a very funny one. He always found humor in the absurd.

The funniest thing I can remember from my grandfather was one time when he was doing one of his favorite schticks: the dumb hick. While he spoke with the gentle drawl of rural Kansas, he was a strong demonstration of the fact that accents do not imply ignorance. He was intelligent and thoughtful, both as a farmer and rancher, and later as a business executive. So when he really laid the Cletus on thick, it was quite amusing to hear. In this case, he was reading his junk mail, aloud, as if he believed every word of it. It went something like this:

“Dorothy, the nahs folks at Publisher’s Clearin’ House have written to me. They say, ‘Dear Mr. Johnson, the team at PCH is pleased to officially announce yore name as the second-place winner of the $7 million grand prize.’ They say that the total amount is $1 million. Well, Ah’ll be! They also say they will make all necessary arrangements for me to receive mah prize, and Ah know they’re serious because they enclose a cashier’s check to cover any fees they haven’t paid. Mighty nice of them. Ah must contact mah representative directly before Ah deposit the check, and for more information. Sounds reasonable. They give me a security code, so we best keep that someplace real safe. And you know it’s on the up-and-up because they even assigned me mah own IRS agent, Mr. Henry Cohen. Good, because Ah don’t want any trouble with the law.”

He could go on like that for a while, straight-faced, immune to my cackles, horselaughs and guffaws. I only cracked my grandfather up once in return when he was doing that, but that time, I got the old man good.

Grandpa was reading aloud from a Harry & David sales pitch around Christmastime–he and Grandma were regular customers. “Harry and David would like us to help them celebrate their fiftieth anniversary!” he began.

I broke in with my own Cletus put-on. “Ah’ll be darned, Grandpa. Ah never even knew they was married.”

My deeply, culturally, and politically conservative grandfather busted out in a gale of mirth.

It’s one of my favorite ways to remember him.

Social comment

Pizza Hut dishonors coupons–really!

November 22, 2011 jkkblog 3 Comments

I was too amused to be annoyed. Called up to order pizza from PH, current coupon in hand. It included 10 hot wings and a large pizza, about as simple as it gets. Slam dunk.

Phone guy, after talking to manager: “Uh, we can’t do that, our wings come prepackaged and we can only do packages of eight.”

Me: “Coupon says ten.”

PG: “They changed everything around just yesterday, we only have packs of eight.”

Me: “So you’re going to dishonor the coupon?”

PG (defensively): “You can talk to the manager if you want.”

Me (quite calmly): “No need. It’s a simple question; ask whoever you need to ask. Yes or no: are you actually going to dishonor a current coupon?”

PG: “We can’t do ten wings. They changed everything.”

Me: “Not my issue. Yes or no: going to honor or dishonor your coupon?”

PG: “I guess the answer would be we’re going to dishonor it.”

Me: “Okay, thanks, then no need to place the order. Bye.”

It’s not that I am greatly bothered over a couple of chicken wings. It’s not that the Pizza Hut (818 N Vineyard, Kennewick, WA) evidently isn’t very well run. It’s that the guy couldn’t even think sensibly enough to ask his manager to do something intelligent. The coupon came in one of those mailed coupon packs, so they have to know they’ll hear about this again; obviously a manager needs to devise some form of counter-offer if the coupon is somehow physically impossible to fulfill. I’m receptive to almost anything except ‘tough beans’ as an answer; ‘tough beans’ basically says “we are dishonoring our advertising, and screw you if you don’t like it–we simply don’t care.”

So I called PH’s customer satisfaction hotline, carefully concealed on their webpage in hopes that no one would call. The automated answering system did its all to convince me I couldn’t even talk to a person, but I’m persistent. It put me on a protracted hold, then hung up on me after about five minutes. Tried again, silent void.

WWHCD? He might get confused if you ask him to locate Libya on a map, but he knew a lot about how not to screw up selling pizza.

What better way to entertain myself while on protracted hold than by blogging the experience to share with the world?

Editing/writing life

Working with editors…what’s it really like?

November 18, 2011 jkkblog 2 Comments

The common perception is that when you get published, the publisher assigns an editor to work with you and improve the manuscript. In some cases that actually happens, but in many others, not at all.

In my case, as a hired ‘lancer, I have been not so much assigned editors as I was assigned to editors. The editor has a major say in that; if she wants me on the project, and I’m interested in it, I am on the project. (Feminine pronoun used advisedly, as about 3/4 of my editors have been women.) Obviously, if she has asked for me, we probably have a good rapport and track record, or someone recommended me to her, so I probably want to be on the project. I’ll only turn it down if I think I would do so poorly it would damage my overall standing. My interest or lack thereof in the subject matter is immaterial. The pertinent question is “can I do a good job?”

So what is editing like? Editors all have their own processes. My first editor rarely provided feedback, just took the work and changed what he felt he needed to. Later editors have run the gamut from little modification to extensive requests for change. What no one does is suggest wording or send back proofreading; she is not here to teach me how to write, as I’m supposed to know that part already. I can’t recall an editor ever saying anything gratuitously cruel to me, but I have had work returned to me with comments, queries and requests for rewriting. Sample comments:

“Please provide more detail. How does the widget actually work? Why is unobtanium essential?”

“Here you imply that he is a criminal, but you haven’t laid any foundation for what kind of crime.”

“Please rewrite this to give an idea of the worth and rarity of each item. The reader does want to know this, at least an estimate, even if it’s a moving target.”

I have been told that work needs to be redone, and how it needs to be redone, but no editor has ever said anything like: “This is abominable, a crime against literature. Please tell me where you attended college, so I can make sure my children steer well clear of its liberal arts programs.” Or: “My dog did better than this claptrap when I let him out this morning.” Never have I felt that an editor sought to offend me for the sake of doing so. She may be very direct and frank about the problem, but she presumes me to be professional and cooperative, preferring candor, open to improvement. If she thought I was a drama queen or a fragile soul, she wouldn’t want me around in the first place–nor should she.

Do I have a voice? Freelancers do not get much, but that doesn’t mean I have to be silent. If there is a usage, term, or some other device I feel is crucial to the whole, I explain in the editor’s notes I append to most work. If I can explain the necessity to her satisfaction, she generally goes along; however, I don’t often do this. My deal is to write what she assigned me to write, and I have zero legal control over the end result. I will be edited, and that’s part of the gig. Even if I don’t like how she did it, or she actually inserted a mistake, that’s the breaks. One must (wo)man up and live with it. Anyone seeking any sort of literary career needs to get okay with editing, even embrace it.

The net result has been very positive. Editors catch you when you get sloppy. Some provide more detail, some less, but if I’m lacking in an area, I want to step up my game. I have come to like and respect nearly all my editors. Even those I wouldn’t say I liked, I nearly always respected, which is far more to the point of it all. My goals are to be punctual, easy to work with, and do quality work to spec. In return, I have found editors accommodating of life circumstances, conscientious about assuring that I get paid, and fun to work with. Their goal is to assemble and print the highest quality work for a reasonable cost, and if I want to keep ‘lancing, I must further that goal.

Social comment

Penn State

November 10, 2011 jkkblog Leave a comment

Well, that’s about as painful as it gets. All of a sudden UW going 0-12 a few years back, and keeping Tyrone Willingham around purely out of Seattle racial guilt, doesn’t look quite as bad as it felt at the time. I guess when they say ‘it could always be worse,’ this would be what they meant.

For those unfamiliar with the story, evidently a Penn State assistant football coach has been raping young boys at their facilities for a decade at least, and evidently the coaching staff and university knew to varying degrees that it was going on, and didn’t take steps to put a stop to it. PSU’s head coach, Joe Paterno, was the longest-tenured and most admired coach in US college football, the symbol of Doing It Right. So the idea of such an upstanding figure looking the other way, in a case like this, is something just about no one can feel neutral about. The issue here: while it happening is bad enough, people who know it happens–and allow it to continue–share at least some of the guilt. In one especially bad aspect, an assistant (named, disastrously, McQueary) actually caught the rapist in the act at one point, and didn’t do anything about it so far as we’re aware.

Paterno, the AD, the boy-raping assistant, someone else in the athletic department and the president of the university have all been sacked, and several will face felony charges (not Paterno). Look ahead to about ten years of litigation (probably longer than Paterno will live; he’s 84, had coached there since I was a toddler), profiting only lawyers. The students are somewhat rioting in support of Paterno, and the country is taking sides. You either want him and everyone involved hanging from a lamppost, or you think it’s a horrible disservice to the most visible symbol the school ever had.

My own take is that I don’t see either side doing a damn thing for the real victims, which are the boys who got raped. I see all anger and recrimination, and I understand why, but I do not understand why no one can seem to spare some emotion for those who suffered most. They certainly suffered more than a half dozen six- (in one case seven-) figure employees, though if a couple of those can’t buy their way into the nice jails, or out of jail altogether, those may get a taste of what the original victims experienced. My dominant emotion here is not fury and punishment, but what can we do for the real innocents?

I wish I heard more of that, and less rioting and screaming and such. We get so angry in these situations we forget to invest some energy in support for and kindness to the most damaged.

The Editorial Maverick